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July 14th, 2002

...gun-totin', cousin-fucking, hee haw watching, homophobic, anti-choice, psycho-Christian, wal-mart shopping, ass backwards, tasteless, crude motherfuckers. Ahhh, to be home.

Got back tonight. New York was, well, New York. I swear that is the only place I belong. I've been home four hours and I wish were back there. Can anything be wrong with the world when I can sit in Rockefeller Plaza with the sun on my shoulder? Conan was wonderful as usual. Michael really liked it. I hope I showed him the time he was anticipating. I even took some photos which is against my principles. I guess I want irrefutable proof that I was there, so I can look on it when I feel I will never get there.

The hotel was quaint. Michael had some lavatory trouble, but he was ok. He should learn to go with the flow. We also went to the Jekyll and Hyde and to Ellen's Stardust Cafe. We walked Times Square and went to the really big Toys-R-Us. It was fun, but all good things come to an end, and as always, this did too soon.

For the one person interested (the rest of you can bugger off), I think I'm developing a new fling. I am so excited! When I got to NY Everywhere I turned there was a poster of Tony Shalhoub. Seriously! It was like:

[ MONK ]

and I turn around and

[ MONK ]

Everywhere I turn, it's

[ MONK ]

[ MONK ]

[ MONK ]

Buses, telephones, Times Square, everywhere. So it was then that I realized:
Wow, Tony Shalhoub is HOT!!!

But not really Tony Shalhoub. Monk is hot, and you know why?

Because Obsessive-Compulsive behavior is sexy

And this one is all about sex. I don't want to mother him, and I don't think he's cute. I want to F--K that overphobed bastard. A couple of times.

See What I mean?

oh, stop it.

Anyway, if you can rid yourself of that image and are still strangely curious, the show comes on Fridays @ 10PM. You can catch the Pilot Monday @ 10PM or Friday @ 3PM. So PLEASE tune in and support original and really smart tv. God knows we can use more of it!

Well, I'm here. ya(sigh)y. At least Conan got his tie. I gave it to his assistant and he personally received it. I hope he liked it. I guess I should catch back up with the locals. I just hope Bathelda hasn't taken my spot 'round the cracker barrel.

This song has no title

I'm not always funny. Not everything I do is intended to make people laugh. I'm not always smiling. And all those things that everyone seems to so love about me aren't always pleasant either. Not being able to rid myself of a notion or thought or image isn't cute. It's troublesome. Not sleeping and nervous tics and neurosis aren't things I maintain just to have an anecdote for the peanut gallery. Most of the things that have so endeared me to people make me miserable. Tears are the truest thing I produce. I wish I were someone else. I wish that I could enjoy something without having to make it a part of who I am. All those things for which I harbor disdain make me the person people can tolerate. But it isn't always funny and it isn't always cute. And it isn't an easy wound to dress when everyone patronizes me.

There is no real point.


you stupid republican bitch
Currently dashing the hopes of my parents.

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